


The Meaning of Power

by i_claudia



Category: Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: M/M, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-21
Updated: 2010-10-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 17:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to what most of his masters and fellow students believe, Thom is excruciatingly self-aware.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Power

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/60095.html#cutid2). (21 October 2010)

Contrary to what most of his masters and fellow students believe, Thom is excruciatingly self-aware. He knows he is arrogant; he knows he has a problem with his temper. He knows he has done the opposite of ingratiate himself with most of the people he’s met. It isn’t that he’s not aware of the cloud of animosity that follows him—he just doesn’t care enough to alter the way he interacts with the world. 

The only thing that attracts him is power, knowledge; the satisfaction he has only ever found in the setting down of an intricate spell before watching it unfold perfectly. This is all he desires. Other loves, other bodies, hold no interest for him once the initial fascination has worn off. Partners of any kind complicate things needlessly. He has all he needs in the pursuit of his Gift, in the exploration of reality’s boundaries. The braver souls in the City of Gods tell him he needs to soften himself, find comfort in human contact—but he finds all the comfort and support he has ever needed in his twin. Alanna alone has never judged him, never discouraged or interrogated him, never looked at him with fear or pity.

It comes as a surprise, then, to find himself drawn to the Duke’s quarters night after night, and for baser reasons than simple desire for his scholarly knowledge.

Thom’s no fool. He knows he’s neither the first nor the last of Roger’s conquests, knows that even on the nights he stays away from the Duke’s bed, Roger never sleeps alone. He knows, too, that Roger is dangerous, that part of what Roger is doing is looking for information, for ways to hurt Alanna, but it isn’t as if merely sleeping with Roger affects Alanna’s safety. It isn’t as if Thom or Roger are offering anything as flimsy and fleeting as love—they seek a stronger passion, desire fueled by the lust for power, for the intoxicating interplay of two of the strongest Gifts in Tortall. Thom’s never felt anything like this, the feeling of their bodies together; from Roger’s measuring, lingering looks, he wonders if perhaps the Duke hasn’t, either.

Staying away isn’t an option. Roger is a blaze of power Thom can feel in his mind, a puzzle he hasn’t figured out yet; he is drawn to him as irresistibly as the proverbial moth to candleflame. By day he writes to Alanna or shuts himself away in his room, matches the jealous or fearful, hateful stares with his own cold aloofness and carefully acerbic scorn. By night, though... by night he walks the cold stone corridors to Roger’s rooms, his paces carefully measured. He wants to run, run to where Roger is waiting, all burning eyes and practiced hands ready to strip Thom down to his bones and his Gift, bear him down to the bed and press in, _in_ until Thom can’t tell the difference between their bodies, until their Gifts curl together, each coiling tendril lifting them higher and higher. 

Patience, he instructs himself. Patience, cleverness, a mask: these have brought him close to Roger and will continue to draw him closer. There is a world to discover, so near Thom can almost taste it, and the keys Roger holds will open it wider still.


End file.
